What do Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett have in common?

Uh, they both died on the same day and also something about buttholes. Okay, that one definitely needs some polish.

Unless you've just awoken from a coma or returned from a spelunking expedition and you decided to come to this website before turning on a television or a radio, or looking at the front page of a newspaper while waiting in line to buy a coffee, or talking to the people in that line, than you already know that Michael Jackson died yesterday due to complications from being a fucking weirdo. He is survived by Tito and LaToya Jackson, Lisa Marie Presley, the Elephant Man's bones, Macaulay Culkin, Bubbles, a half dozen llamas, that woman who used to be his nurse but then had a bunch of kids for him, three kids that he claims are his, and Webster.

I was born way back in 1977, so it really shouldn't come as much of a surprise that I grew up a huge Michael Jackson fan. The very first concert I ever saw -- a full eight years before my dad took me to see They Might Be Giants at the Trocadeo, effectively blowing my twelve year old mind (it was the first time I had ever been to a smaller venue or witnessed pogoing and all of that shit) -- was 1984's Jackson 5 Victory Tour at JFK Stadium in Philadelphia. My aunt and grandmother managed to not only score me tickets to one of the multiple, sold-out shows, but they also searched high and low for (and eventually found) a red, leather Beat It jacket that would fit a particularly small seven year old. Despite being out of my mind psyched to see Michael Jackson live, I spent most of the show dancing in my seat, paying little-to-no attention to what was going on on stage. Yeah, I was a little gaylord.

Anyway, it was the Jackson 5 that really ignited my love of music, and I remember giving a radio interview back in 2001 or so when we were asked who our influences were. While my bandmates struggled to name the most obscure and respectable metal acts they could, I KEPT THAT SHIT REAL and told the host it was the Jackson 5 who originally caused me to pressure my mother and grandmother into getting me guitar lessons.

Of course the Michael Jackson that died yesterday wasn't the same Michael Jackson who tore shit up with "I Want You Back" or "Rock With You," which is my fucking jam. He probably could have lived for a thousand more years and he never would have been able to even come close to doing anything half as awesome as "Off the Wall" or "Thriller" (or, to a lesser extent, "Captain Eo" or "Moonwalker: The Video Game"), but don't front you haven't enjoyed all of the crazy rumors and even crazier pictures that would pop up in the news every four to six months. Remember when he was going to auction off all of his shit and we got to see his arcade setup and all of his creepy statues and shit? Of course you couldn't dance to it, but it still managed to unite everyone much in the same way that "Billie Jean" did. Remember when that motherfucker stood on the hood of his SUV and danced while holding a black umbrella like he was Mary Poppins or some shit? That was definitely more awesome than anything that came out after "Bad."